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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26339893">i sold my soul for this?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/alekszova/pseuds/alekszova'>alekszova</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crushes, First Kiss, Fluff, Halloween, M/M, One Shot, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:16:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,888</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26339893</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/alekszova/pseuds/alekszova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor and Gavin go to a Halloween party together.</p><p>for <a href="https://convinseptember.tumblr.com/">convin september challenge</a> #6 - dancing devils</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Connor/Gavin Reed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>79</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i sold my soul for this?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title from "some nights" by fun.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hold still,” Gavin says, pushing his thumb against Connor’s chin a little harder, tilting his face up, backwards, forwards, to the side. It is a little bit painful and a little bit nice.</p><p>Nice because Gavin’s fingers while holding his face might be rough and calloused, but when they smooth the primer across his skin, it is delicate and tender and it sends a swarm of butterflies wild inside of his stomach. A nice little feature that Connor never thought androids should be able to feel. And yet here he is, trying his hardest not to look Gavin in the eye but doing it anyway. Watching him too closely, too carefully. Savoring the feeling of Gavin so close to him.</p><p>It was maybe three months ago that he realized he had a crush on the detective. Three months ago when Gavin was at Chris’ fourth of July party with the baby on his lap, smiling for a picture, and Connor thought—</p><p>
  <em> Oh, would you look at that? </em>
</p><p>Maybe it was just Gavin showing that he really does have a heart, or maybe it’s because after the few months during Connor’s return to the DPD, it was nice to see Gavin somewhere other than at a crime scene or behind a desk.</p><p>Either way, Connor has been stupid ever since. He never thought he’d be one to be nervous around someone he likes. He thought the words would come out of him without a fight. One foot in front of the other, one word placed after the next.</p><p>
  <em> Hi. Would you like to go on a date? </em>
</p><p>But instead, all he could manage was trying his best not to make his laugh sound like he was malfunctioning and double-checking stupid details like how his tie looks, whether there are creases in his pants. He would spend mornings plucking Sumo’s fur off of his jacket, or standing in front of the mirror for ten minutes, deciding whether or not to tuck or untuck his shirt. And then, on the way to work, he would spend his time asking himself why he should care, because if Gavin was someone who would only like him for these minute details, then Gavin doesn’t like Connor for any valid reason at all.</p><p>And now he’s here, two inches away from Gavin as he leans close, dragging a brush across his features. A sweep of red across his forehead, covering up where the LED used to be, erasing any impression that might still remain.</p><p>And it’s fine.</p><p>Being this close to Gavin—</p><p>It’s fine.</p><p>He’s fine.</p><p>It’s when Gavin lets out an annoyed sigh after trying to trace the diamond shape on his nose that it isn’t fine, because he puts the brush between his teeth and moves forward to climb onto the couch with Connod, straddling his lap and moving far, far too close.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Connor asks, moving his head back immediately. Afraid that if he stays so close that he’ll do something stupid, like push Gavin off the couch or onto the couch or—</p><p>“I can’t get a good angle and it’s going to look fucking stupid if it’s not symmetrical. I have to get closer.”</p><p>“It’s fine if it’s not symmetrical, Gavin.”</p><p>“Look, you asked me to do this for you, right? Not Tina. Not Hank. You asked the professional. You’re going to get professional treatment.”</p><p>“Do you get paid for this?”</p><p>“Not anymore,” he replies, taking the brush and dipping it back in the red paint. “Used to. I worked a few carnivals during the summer, and in high school when football season rolled around I charged five bucks for girls to have their boys’ number on their cheeks.”</p><p>“You working at carnivals makes a lot of sense.”</p><p>“Haha,” Gavin mocks. “Stay still, okay?”</p><p>He tries, but the bristles of the brush tickle his nose and he tries his hardest not to move, but he feels a smile draw across his face and he sees a small, fragile one reflected back on Gavin’s face.</p><p>“Why <em> did </em> you ask me?” Gavin asks, setting the brush down, moving onto the next one, white paint coating the ends. “I’m sure you could’ve done this yourself if you really didn’t care about how it looked.”</p><p>“Halloween is a touchy subject with Hank. He would make Cole’s costume from scratch and go trick-or-treating with him. Chris has his kid. Tina’s the one planning the party so… didn’t feel right to take time out of her day to do something like this.”</p><p>“You’re a lot closer to Ben than you are to me.”</p><p>“Yeah, but…” he trails off. “You worked at carnivals. You’re the professional, remember?”</p><p>“Right,” he says, unconvinced.</p><p>He drags the brush across Connor’s face, the lower half turning from the pale white of his skin to the pure white of the paints that reminds him a little too much of the plastic shell of his body. The diamond on his nose is carved out, leaving the red shape behind much more pristine. Connor can’t see any of it, but he can feel it, and all of his programs are trying to relate back to him as best as they can the exact motions of Gavin’s hands.</p><p>And he feels so dizzy. Light-headed in a way androids shouldn’t be. Flooded with information about Gavin that he didn’t notice until he was this close. The tiny scars on his face, the old placements of piercings on his ears. Being this close, his programs can pick up on the fragrances in the air. The exact cologne Gavin wears. He can’t smell it exactly, but he can pinpoint every single ingredient in it. An oaky musk that, according to their marketing, is sure to make girls swoon.</p><p>“You alright?”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>“Good. There’s only a little bit left, okay?”</p><p>Connor nods, even if he wishes that this could last a little bit longer. Maybe he should’ve picked something more complicated, but Googling <em> demon make up </em>didn’t lend to many that he liked besides this one.</p><p>Gavin turns, finding his third brush, bending back to pick up the palettes of colors that remain untouched. He starts to fall back a little bit, leaning too far to pick up the one with the well of black paint, and Connor reaches forward, gripping onto his shirt, holding onto his waist.</p><p>“Careful,” Connor says.</p><p>“I’m fine—”</p><p>“If you fell you could’ve—” he pauses. “Cracked your head on the table. You probably would’ve died from a brain bleed before the ambulance even showed up.”</p><p>“That a fantasy of yours? Me dying from a brain bleed?”</p><p>Connor shrugs, trying to laugh along like it is. Another lost side-effect of all this is his inability to joke anymore like Gavin means so little to him. It was different before. Gavin was his friend. Now he’s terrified that he’ll give Gavin the wrong impression, which wouldn’t be an issue if he could just <em> get the words out. </em></p><p>Clarify the stupid situation.</p><p>“Keep your eyes closed.”</p><p>He obeys, eyes shut, feeling the brush draw a line across the middle of his head, black paint blended upwards into the red on his forehead. He keeps them closed even after Gavin says it’s okay, even after he is tracing the shape of triangles on his cheeks, curved shapes along his jawline that look like a clownish impression of contour. He only opens his eyes when Gavin moves again and he realizes his hands are still there, resting on Gavin’s waist, holding him in place as he leans back to reach for a smaller brush.</p><p>“Don’t open your stupid mouth for a second, okay?”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Gavin smirks. Stupid, insolent little idiot that actually <em> smirks. </em>He has a dimple on his right cheek when he does it, and Connor is too busy looking at it to notice for a moment that Gavin is looking at his mouth, too, and when he sees where Gavin’s gaze is, he thinks—</p><p>
  <em> Oh, could this be it? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Could this be when Gavin kisses him? </em>
</p><p>Could he be lucky enough to have that, for a boy to kiss him instead of the other way around? For him to be saved from having to announce these feelings for the first person he’s felt them for?</p><p>But then Gavin is leaning forward, drawing one of the three lines that look as though they are sewing his mouth shut. One after the other in careful, delicate strokes. He is spending longer on this than he needs to, but Connor has decided he’s not going to complain. Not when he realizes that the moment Gavin’s done, he’s going to get off his lap and that comfort and warmth will be gone.</p><p>The brush is set aside. A mirror is picked up, hiding Gavin’s face as his own is reflected back. It’s good. It’s exactly like the picture. Gavin must have been telling the truth about carnivals and  cheerleaders.</p><p>“What do you think?” Connor asks.</p><p>“What do <em> I </em>think?</p><p>“Yeah. Does it look like Halloween makeup?”</p><p>“Yeah. Sure. You look like a demon. Or a devil.”</p><p>“Handsome devil?” Connor asks.</p><p>“Oh, pfft,” Gavin says, rolling his eyes, but Connor makes a mental note that Gavin didn’t say no. “Do you want to wear my jacket? It’d go with your look a lot better than those stupid ones Hank buys you.”</p><p>“They’re not stupid. I like them.”</p><p>Gavin gets off his lap, moving away, abandoning him so quickly and so easily. But Gavin is right. The jackets Hank gets him are patterned with bright colors, usually color-blocked of fluorescent pinks and neon greens, though the one Connor gravitates to the most if varying shades of blue, giving off the impression it was made from scraps rather than a real design. He stands up, following Gavin over to the door as a jacket is pulled off the hook, passed to his hands.</p><p>It will look good with the face paint, and even as Connor puts it on, he knows he barely looks like himself. Not that it matters. Everywhere the jacket touches his bare skin feels like it is tingling, though the best word he can come up with to describe the station is <em> static. </em>Like his skin is made of black and white particles with no signal coming in.</p><p>“One last thing,” Gavin says, finding the plastic bag on the coffee table, pulling out cheap horns from inside. He sets the headband on Connor’s head, adjusts his hair to cover the shiny plastic band a little better. “There. Perfect costume.”</p><p>“And you?” Connor asks.</p><p>“Oh,” he says. “I’ve got the costume to end all costumes.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Gavin has truly outdone himself this time. He steps out of his room, arms out to his side, a wide smile cracking open his face. Whiskers on his cheeks, cat ears on his head. He looks ridiculous, but that’s not what actually makes him look like a mess. It’s the clothes.</p><p>“You’re wearing a garbage bag.”</p><p>“Yeah,” he says, hands rustling the plastic as if to prove it. “I don’t own any black clothes.”</p><p>“So rather than buy any, you chose this.”</p><p>“It’s cheaper and it completes the look.”</p><p>“Does it now?” Connor asks.</p><p>Gavin nods, “You ever have a cat?”</p><p>“No,” he replies. “I’ve been alive for little over a year and Hank has a dog that, even with a heart of gold, frightens most kittens away.”</p><p>“Right,” he says. “Forgot. Silly me.”</p><p>He doubts Gavin has forgotten, but he picks up the keys from the counter as they turn to the door to leave. “Go on. Tell me your story.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“I’m sure you’ve got one. Go ahead.”</p><p>“Right. Okay,” Gavin says, following him out of the room. “It’s not really a story. Just that I had a cat when I was a kid. Mewbacca. She loved climbing in plastic bags. This is my tribute for her.”</p><p>“Oh?” Connor says, reaching out to touch his cheek, fixing the curved end of one of the whiskers on his cheeks. “Do you think she’s in heaven, counting her lucky stars she got you as an owner?”</p><p>“Fuck yeah,” he says. “You know how many times I snuck her extra treats and catnip? She loved me.”</p><p>“You spoiled her.”</p><p>“That’s what I do for the people I love,” Gavin says. “Get on my good side and maybe I’ll get you a can of motor oil.”</p><p>Connor rolls his eyes, suppressing the feeling in his stomach that lights up into butterflies at the thought of that. Not the present, but being important enough that Gavin would gift him something.</p><p>
  <em> Stop it. </em>
</p><p>In the time that he waited for Gavin to get dressed, Connor decided he is allowing himself to like Gavin as much as he wants, but that’s all. It’s not going to go any further. Gavin is his co-worker, and he’s a shitty person right below that. The amount of times Connor has had to ask Hank to let it go when Gavin’s thrown insults his direction and the times he’s had to ask Tina to try and convince Gavin to apologize, even if he doesn’t believe it, are countless, even with android capabilities.</p><p>“Admit it,” Gavin says as they reach the elevator. “You like it.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“The costume. You think it’s funny. I saw you smile. You’re allowed to laugh.”</p><p>“It’s a very… tragic tribute to a dead cat,” Connor replies. “That’s all.”</p><p>“Alright. Fine. Be a stoic stone-faced robot.”</p><p>“Thank you for the permission.”</p><p>Gavin pokes him in the side, leaning against the wall as they wait for the elevator to come up. He looks so happy. So much happier than he has ever looked at the station before. He’s never seen Gavin in such a good mood, smiling so much.</p><p>It’s—</p><p>Odd.</p><p>“Do you like Halloween?” Connor asks.</p><p>“Love it. More than anything.”</p><p>“Good childhood memories?”</p><p>“Yeah,” he says. “The best. Halloween is always good. No guilt with eating candy, getting to dress up as something stupid, going to parties, watching scary movies…”</p><p>“Technically you could do that at any point in the year,” Connor replies. “You could have Halloween every month if you really wanted to.”</p><p>“I could if I had someone to spend it with.”</p><p>The elevator dings, the doors slide open. The two climb on, side by side.</p><p>“You can invite me over for it,” Connor says, looking up to meet his gaze. “If you want.”</p><p>“I’ll keep that in mind.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Connor was warned that the party would be crowded, but for some reason it didn’t really sink in until he got there. So many people crowded into the living room, flooding into the kitchen and dining room, the music loud enough that it will probably elicit a noise complaint sooner or later. It is so much more like an actual house party than Connor expected. When Tina invited him, he thought it was just going to be a small group of co-workers and a friend of Tina’s he never met. Not like this. Not like house parties shown in cheesy high school movies.</p><p>It is simultaneously anxiety-inducing as it is relaxing. No need to put up a face like he would in an intimate setting. He can fall to the back. Except there are so many people here, there really is nowhere to go to have a second alone.</p><p>Which it doesn’t seem he will, because Gavin is grabbing his hand pulling him through the crowd. They find Tina in the kitchen, where they share a few laughs and comments about their costumes—hers an elaborate orange dress resembling a butterfly that he registers as a replica of a costume from an old dystopian flick from the mid 2010s, which matches the year of the music funneled through the house—before they are off again, Gavin pulling him towards the edge of the room where he stands on tiptoes to talk into his ear after Connor tells him he can’t hear him for the tenth time.</p><p>“I asked you if you wanted to dance,” he says. “Or we could… I don’t know. Can you swim?”</p><p>“Can I swim?”</p><p>“There’s a pool out back.”</p><p>“After all the work you did on my face paint, you want me to swim?” Connor asks.</p><p>“Guess that’s a yes to dancing then, isn’t it?” he smiles, pulling Connor away from the wall.</p><p>He didn’t mean to say that. He’s not a good dancer. That wasn’t part of his protocols. He doesn’t need to know how to do this. He watches Gavin blankly as he dances, realizing maybe <em> good </em> isn’t part of this. Gavin isn’t good at this either. In fact, Connor decides at this moment <em> good </em>is objective, because he knows Gavin looks ridiculous with his garbage bag and whiskers and cat ears and his flailing, but it’s making Connor smile and he reluctantly lets Gavin grab his hands, moving him with him, shouting at him over the music to relax a little bit.</p><p>So he tries.</p><p>He tries to relax. He tries to copy some of the people around him, he copies Gavin, he thumbs through the millions of files and coding in his head to find anything he can and he dances. Dances to old songs that he’s never heard before, dances to songs that Gavin seems to know every word to, and when he doesn’t, when he stumbles over them, all it does is make Connor laugh and Gavin laugh in return and he realizes something—</p><p>He would do absolutely anything to make Gavin this happy every day.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>When the slow songs come on, as if on cue, Gavin leads Connor away from the dance floor, telling him that he needs a break. It’s fine. Connor shouldn’t slow dance with him anyway, and he stuffs aside the feeling of wanting to. There is something a little bit nicer about the quiet outside in the backyard of Tina’s house, anyway. There’s a lot less people, the music muffled behind them as they sit side by side, feet in the pool, socks stuffed into their shoes behind them. The water is ice cold, far too late in the year for any of the people here to be in the pool, but he supposes a little bit of liquor and sugar is enough to make anybody do stupid things like play chicken in the shallow end.</p><p>“So?” Gavin asks, nudging his shoulder. “What do you think?”</p><p>“Of what? The party?”</p><p>“Yeah,” he says. “You’re only a year old. How does it feel to be at a house party for the first time?”</p><p>“Unexpected,” Connor replies. “I thought it was going to be… quieter.”</p><p>“Tina always plans it to be, but she likes Halloween as much as I do.”</p><p>“I see that,” he says, looking around the backyard decorated with blowup pumpkins and cobwebs in the trees. There’s even little plastic bones floating in the pool. “What about your horror movies? I doubt you’re watching those here.”</p><p>“Oh, no. Tina hates getting scared. We’ll go to Chris’s in a little bit to watch some,” he says. “Do you want to come?”</p><p>“I’d like that.”</p><p>“You won’t get scared?”</p><p>Connor scoffs, “Me? Get scared? It’s just a movie. It’s not real.”</p><p>“No? I seem to recall you and Hank talking at length about a horror movie earlier this year—”</p><p>Connor shakes his head, “No. I don’t get scared. That was all Hank.”</p><p>“I bet,” Gavin says, clearly not believing his poor lie. “I think you’re just a big baby.”</p><p>Connor reaches up, nudging him harder than he means to. Gavin pushes him back and they’re like children, trading blows until Connor pushes him hard enough to knock him from the edge of the pool into the water. He goes under for a moment before swimming up, breaking the surface with a splash, his makeup smeared, his cat ears falling toward the bottom of the pool.</p><p>“What the hell, Connor?” he yells. “I’m fucking soaked!”</p><p>“At least your trash bag is waterproof,” he replies.</p><p>Gavin splashes water to him and he turns, letting the water hit his side, “You’re going to pay.”</p><p>“Don’t, please,” he says, waving his hands in forfeit. “You don’t want to mess up all your hard work, remember?”</p><p>“I’m starting to think it might be worth it.”</p><p>Connor kicks his feet in the water, throwing a wave towards Gavin. “Halloween isn’t over. You aren’t allowed to mess it up. I’m a baby, remember? You can’t bully me.”</p><p>“But <em> you’re </em> allowed to bully <em> me?” </em> Gavin asks.</p><p>“Yes. Exactly.”</p><p>Gavin shakes his head, diving back underwater. When he returns, the whiskers are just faint reminders of what they once were, his cat ears in his hands as he comes over to the edge, hauling himself back up onto dry land.</p><p>“You’re a little bitch is what you are.”</p><p>Connor laughs, letting Gavin lean against him, even if it soaks his clothes, too. “I thought that’s what happened at house parties. People get pushed into pools. That’s why they exist, isn’t it? For the drama?”</p><p>“I guess. Should’ve known. Should’ve brought extra clothes.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Connor says quietly. “I thought I was doing you a favor.”</p><p>“How so?”</p><p>“You worked up quite a sweat when we were dancing. You needed a bath.”</p><p>Gavin laughs, laying back, looking up at the sky. Connor follows his gaze up to the blackened sky, little pinpricks of light looking back down at them.</p><p>“It was funny,” Gavin says finally. “So I’ll forgive you just this once.”</p><p>Connor lays back beside him, watching Gavin as Gavin watches the stars.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Tina lends Gavin a new pair of pants and a towel, which entirely ruins Gavin’s costume but improves as well. The pants, a pair of pajamas that Tina got the week before, are black with green eyes peering out. Gavin steals a magic marker from her bedroom where he lets Connor redraw the whiskers on his cheeks, though they look a hundred times worse. The lines are too straight, too even, but it is nice to return the favor and tip Gavin’s chin up and to the side to add them back again.</p><p>“Thanks,” Connor says. “For all of this.”</p><p>“For the party?”</p><p>“No,” he says. “For… hanging out with me. I’m sure it would’ve been funner to stay with Tina.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah. She probably would’ve pushed me into the pool, too, though,” he says, then shakes his head. “No… she doesn’t really talk to me during the parties. Too busy being a hostess. She has a lot of friends. I kind of get pushed to the back. I would’ve left by now if you weren’t here.”</p><p>“I thought you liked Halloween?”</p><p>“When I have someone to be with. Not when I’m alone. This is actually the first time in a few years I’ve had someone to hang with. So really, I should be thanking you.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“Okay?”</p><p>“Go ahead,” Connor says. “Thank me.”</p><p>“Oh,” Gavin laughs. “Thanks, Con. For dancing with me. Wouldn’t have been the same without you.”</p><p>“You’re welcome.”</p><p>Gavin smiles, looking up at him in the silence, the music muffled beneath them but vibrating through the house regardless. This is the first time they’ve been alone since they got here. There were other people in the backyard, in the pool. While this room is an overflow of coats and pieces of costumes that people have shed, it is completely devoid of another person, no leftover chatter. It’s making the butterflies in his stomach become unbearably strong. Surely they will find their way upwards into his throat and choke him to death. If androids could, in fact, choke to death.</p><p>“Gavin?” he says quietly. “This face paint, it smears, right?”</p><p>“Yeah. It’s shitty dollar store crap. I got it—”</p><p>“Do you mind?” he asks.</p><p>“Do I mind what? If it smears? It’s your face paint.”</p><p>“Okay,” he says quietly, taking a step closer. “I am sorry, though.”</p><p>“For?”</p><p>“Destroying your work.”</p><p>He leans forward, tipping Gavin’s chin up, pressing his lips as gently against Gavin’s as he can, trying his best to avoid messing up all of Gavin’s work, but when Gavin kisses him back, when he is pulled forward, he forgoes any sense of restraint he had. He’s kissing Gavin hard, pushing him against the wall, his hand holding on tight to Gavin’s stupid trash bag and Gavin’s hands cling to his jacket. Gavin’s jacket, which feels like a weighted blanket on his shoulders this entire time, so comforting and heavy and like he never wants to take it off, even when it’s Gavin’s hands pushing on it to free it from Connor’s shoulders.</p><p>He thought kissing Gavin would help. He thought it would free the butterflies and make them go away. He thought they would fade out, at least give him a break from this flighty feeling, but it doesn’t. It only makes them worse. He thinks he might be malfunctioning. Everything falling apart, dropping away from him until he is bare and broken and the only thing he can feel is Gavin’s hand in his hair, his lips on his, his body pressed so close against his, like they are inverts of each other, perfectly carved to fit together.</p><p>It isn’t until he feels Gavin’s other hand finally free the jacket from his shoulder and it drops to the floor that he pulls back.</p><p>“Fuck, why’d you stop?” Gavin whispers.</p><p>Connor moves away from him, picking the jacket up, shaking his hands out like it will get rid of the nerves inside of him, “I didn’t mean to do that.”</p><p>“You didn’t? What the hell was all that build up before then?”</p><p>“I—” he turns around to face him. “I should’ve waited.”</p><p>“For what? My permission?”</p><p>“Among other things,” Connor says. Then he pauses, stifling a laugh when he sees how badly his face paint has transferred to Gavin’s face. Streaks of black and red on his forehead and cheeks. What must the remainder on Connor’s face look like?</p><p>“What kind of ‘other things’?” Gavin asks. “Because you have my permission to do it again, by the way.”</p><p>“More,” he says. “I wanted to wait for more.”</p><p>“More what? We can have sex here if you want. I used to live in this room. Tina knows I’ve—”</p><p>“Can you please stop?” Connor asks. “I really don’t want to know about you and… other people.”</p><p>“Oh,” Gavin says, leaning back against the wall. “That’s what you mean by more.”</p><p>He nods. Waits in silence for Gavin to give him some kind of answer of whether or not he’ll get it. But he doesn’t. Gavin is just silent, looking back at him like he’s waiting for Connor to say the same thing. Or maybe not the same thing. Maybe to take back what he asked to begin with.</p><p>“Gavin?” he asks, tentatively saying his name, testing the waters. Make him be the one to say it. Connor isn’t going to take this back. He can’t and even if he could, he <em> won’t </em>. He won’t lie and pretend that he was just joking or that he doesn’t want Gavin for more than one night or for more than a booty call when Gavin’s lonely.</p><p>“I’m not so good with relationships,” he says. “People get annoyed with me really fast.”</p><p>“I already get annoyed with you.”</p><p>Gavin smirks, that stupid dimple on his cheek begging Connor to step forward and kiss him again, “Yeah. You do. And you still stay.”</p><p>“Because I like you.”</p><p>“Promise?” Gavin asks, the smile on his face shifting so easily over into something fake. This is a real question. Not a joke.</p><p>“Promise.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Connor rolls his eyes, “What do you mean ‘okay’?”</p><p>“I mean I’ll try it. I’ll go out with you.”</p><p>“Don’t say that like you’re doing me a favor, Gavin.”</p><p>“I’m not,” he says, pushing away from the wall. He walks closer to Connor, getting closer and closer as he speaks. “Why do you think I had so much fun tonight? Or agreed to do your stupid makeup? Or made an excuse to sit on your lap? Or kissed you back or brought you up here or asked you to—”</p><p>“Stop,” Connor says when Gavin reaches him, standing back in that too-close bubble. Even saying these things out loud isn’t erasing the feeling in his chest. “I get it.”</p><p>“Do you?”</p><p>“I do.”</p><p>Gavin stands up on his tiptoes, arms reaching up to loop around Connor’s neck. He kisses Connor softly, pulling away, “I do need you to do me a favor, though.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Wipe that paint off. You look stupid with it all smudged like that.”</p><p>
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</p><p>They leave Tina’s party for Chris’s place, arriving just before the movie starts. Gavin has a bowl of popcorn on his lap, legs resting on Connor’s lap, where he traces a few of the eyes on the pajamas as the lights turn off and the movie starts. They all scream at the same jump scares, all laugh at the same stupid plot points. Gavin and Chris both yell at the main characters for their reckless decisions. Leftover Halloween candy is passed around their group, wrappers left forgotten to the floor.</p><p>And Connor looks back at Gavin and watches him, finally understanding why Gavin loves Halloween so much. He loves it now, too.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>face paint based off of <a href="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/a7/74/66/a7746696336a350d9cd8381fa796a789.png">this</a> (achievement hunter/ryan's old gta v character) + a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLixOgr9nBp8-IpEqV1lyiPqijyBL4YXhA">playlist of songs i made</a> that i think tina would play at the party (which was a really important usage of my time)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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